All Will Be Well
by Feather Ice
Summary: From this moment onwards, Kairi will cry alone. But he'll be okay with that in time.


A/N: This doesn't really make sense unless you read the manga. It takes some thinking even if you have. I'd advise you to read it before attempting any of my Nightmare Inspector fics. Fairly random. I really love Shima, Kairi, and Hiruko. In case you can't tell.

All Will Be Well

There was a big difference between being emotional, sensitive, and being able to cry, Kairi believed. Being emotional meant expressing emotions without necessarily feeling them too strongly. Being sensitive meant feeling them strongly, but not expressing them. Kairi was both of these things; and that was how he knew that being able to cry was something entirely different. Being able to cry meant being honest between the two, and that was something he wasn't. He hardly ever cried, no matter what, and never in front of Shima. Only once—

Ah, but that had been a little bit different.

What was _different_ about that situation had been that it had taken place during a time he thought he might never be **able** to cry again. It was some time after Shima had appeared, and it was the time that Kairi had come to love Shima especially. He loved all dreams, whether dark or light, remembered upon waking or lost into the infinity of human imagination, loved them until his heart was full to bursting with that emotion, but somehow he had ended up loving Shima even more. He couldn't explain it and didn't really understand it, but his love for his forgetful companion seemed to have crowded all the tears out of his heart, the same way that now that Shima was no more, it seemed to drown him with them.

It had been when Asuza came to Delirium. He wanted the dream room, Kairi handed it over with giddy anticipation of what sort of dreams a baku might produce, and moments later there was a small, pale boy shivering in the elaborate baku attire Asuza had dreamed up for him. Kairi was momentarily lost in the exotic, jewel-like eyes peering out of his face. Bad habit of his—staring straight into the dream and seeing what Asuza had in store for him. Not one of his better ideas; Kairi saw all the darkness he had expected, saw what this boy had been created out of and was nearly overwhelmed by the hell of human sin. He was drowning in it all, unable to pull his eyes away from the grotesque spectacle, when suddenly, before he was swallowed entirely, there was a spark of something—it wasn't bright enough to illuminate hell—but it caught his eye so completely that his decent was frozen.

"What's your name?" Shima was asking at the time, oblivious as to the fact that his master had nearly forgotten to wake up for the last time. The jewel eyes went to Shima, but to Shima they were just eyes, wary, and cold. Not cold with hatred though; cold with not knowing what anything warm was. Shima showed him that warmth in a smile and the boy drew back, surprised. "I'm Shima! You?"

"Hi…" The boy paused, as if surprised to hear his low, soft voice. He looked up at Shima with the familiar questioning eyes of any new dream, lost in the real world. "…Hiruko. I'm Hiruko, I think…" He lifted a hand to his face, looking at it with vague befuddlement. "Where is this?"

"This is the great, the wonderful, the MAGNIFICENT Delirium!" Shima explained enthusiastically, helping Hiruko to his feet, and Kairi watched the shivering stop abruptly, ended with the first touch of human warmth. Hiruko glanced over at Kairi through his bangs, before his eyes darted away, saying nothing. He was pretending Kairi wasn't there, because he didn't know how to handle what his instincts were telling him—that Kairi couldn't be there. Just as well. Kairi wasn't able to do much more than trail after the pair of them as Shima led Hiruko along, chattering about tea and how much he would like it. Their faces were identical, blank.

"And then there's ginseng. People like ginseng. I like ginseng. Kairi made it for me—do you know Kairi? He's the one behind us who looks like a ghost and—" Shima broke off, blinking in surprise at the uncharacteristic silence of his master. Kairi's eyes fell into bright blue ones. Somehow he got a smile on his face.

"Ginseng," he reminded Shima, who blinked again, and then picked up just where he left off.

"—and owns this shop, Delirium, but I already told you that. I—"

This time he broke off because Hiruko's eyes had somehow widened (that really didn't seem possible with what exceptionally large eyes he'd been given) and he was murmuring, "Yes, it was tea. She serves tea."

"Who?" Shima wanted to know, and Hiruko looked lost again.

"Mizuki." He looked back at Kairi, frowning. Kairi could see the gears turning in his head, but he also knew that no new dream would destroy itself this quickly. Especially not with the plans Asuza had for it. Kairi broke the gaze, knowing that they were both looking at the floor now. Hiruko spoke again, voice dropping to a whisper. "Yes, I'm the new baku. I need to… find her."

"Don't," Kairi said, but neither of them heard him.

"I'll take you to her!" Shima volunteered, smiling again. "But first—tea. And you should probably rest. You've come a long way!"

"Tea," Hiruko echoed. "Yes. It's been… tiring. I just became a baku."

"Right," Shima agreed, nodding, used to the leaps of logic dreams made to integrate into their surroundings. "It's certainly nothing you want to do twice. Did you know that people across the sea have these things called crumpets with their tea? They're delightful!"

Shima bounded off, Hiruko in tow, and Kairi stopped and went back the way he'd come. Shima would be occupied with Hiruko for some time, so he didn't think his companion would be lonely. And though he loved all dreams, though he could already feel himself loving Hiruko, he didn't want to be near him. He wanted to lose himself in another dream, one that was not endless shadow with that spark of—he stopped himself right there. Kairi hadn't lost himself in a fantasy once since they'd found Hiruko. He craved it and needed to the same way he needed to draw air.

He found his chair, sat, closed his mind against the thought of Asuza's dream, and laughed because nothing in the world mattered anymore and that was perfect.

After a time he became aware of the fact that Shima was with him, cross-legged at his side and looking up in that endearing way he had. "Hiruko?" Kairi asked, and Shima grinned.

"He went off to find Mizuki." Kairi nodded, quietly aching with the fact that Hiruko had already started off on his path. He didn't _want_ to think about it. He noticed food before him, obviously courtesy of Shima, as Shima was the sole obstacle between himself and starvation, and obligingly began to shovel ramen into his mouth. Shima hummed at his side, and exclaimed, once he'd finished eating, "I like him!"

Kairi suppressed an answering smile with a smirk, slurping the last of his noodles. "Do you now?"

"Mm-hm!" Shima's gaze had drifted far away. "Pretty eyes. And I've never seen a baku's dream before."

"Few have," Kairi told him, thinking of Asuza, and apparently Shima was too, because he then confessed,

"I didn't think I'd like anything Asuza dreamed." That wasn't exactly surprising. Shima was partial to the happy dreams, determined to shun anything that threatened to ooze or cloud over or, kami forbid, scream. Kairi wasn't sure what to make of that, given what Shima was—a manifestation of an impartial and almighty portal to non-reality. Which apparently turned out to be a sickening idealist. "But I like Hiruko! I'm not sure why. I just really, really like him. And that a baku—Asuza—could dream something so—!" He sighed happily, leaning back against Kairi's chair. "It's nice. I like it."

But he wouldn't. Not if he knew.

Kairi stared into his empty bowl, watching as it blurred away. The first drop of wet hit it, adding its moisture to what was left of his soup, and Kairi continued to stare, frozen where he was as tears scraped down his cheeks. His silence summoned Shima, who was prying the bowl from his fingers and tilting his head to look, face drawn with concern.

"Kairi? Are you hurt?"

"No," Kairi said, and wasn't able to say anything else. Shima kept looking at him.

"Is this about Hiruko?" He asked worriedly. "Do you not like him?" Kairi shook his head, and Shima started with no great success to try and wipe away his tears. They fell faster than Shima's fingers could spirit them away. "Why are you crying, then? Kairi?"

Kairi's eyes closed, and there was Hiruko within them. There was everything Asuza had planned and that one horrifying thing he hadn't. Or maybe he had—although that didn't seem anything like Asuza, didn't seem like the soul Kairi had peered into upon his entrance. The darkness was Asuza's. The evolution, the ascent into something far brighter than anything out of Asuza'a mind had the right to be; that was Hiruko. Hiruko would become what Kairi loved best, a living dream. And he would die for it, just when his heart caught a glimpse of light at last. He would die the same second that he was born.

"Because," Kairi told Shima, voice hoarse, hands clenched at his sides. "I know how it _ends_."

He didn't say how it ended, and Shima didn't ask. He wished he would, because if Shima had asked, he probably would have sunk into dreams for days on end, and forgotten all about Hiruko. Instead he was kept inside himself, pain, tears, and all, folded into slender, warm arms, with his head pressed into Shima's shoulder. Shima smelled of that curious Japanese soap so common in this era, and books could be written about his warmth.

"All will be well," Shima assured him, formal manner of speaking so far removed from his usual chatter that Kairi's eyes opened again, to see what had wrought such a change. He got a good view of Shima's neck, if nothing else, and felt hands stroking through his hair. His eyes shut again. "All will be well," Shima repeated, and now Kairi fell once more into dreams.

He dreamed of Hiruko and woke still in Shima's arms.

He'd never woken up with anyone before. That had been different too.

Now he stood before something cold and still, something that never quite reconciled itself with what he knew Shima to be. He still felt the restless spirit buzzing within it, and sometimes, when he put his hands against the wood, he could almost feel warmth. But it was not the warm energy he was familiar with, not the right face, not the right voice. He held his hands against Shima, asking softly, "How much longer shall I wait?"

_Long,_ he felt rather than heard, as though the words were carved into the wood, for that was the way that doors spoke. The feeling was reminiscent of Shima's handwriting, evoking other senses and other memories. Other dreams. _I still remember._

"You're doing this on purpose," Kairi accused childishly. The door creaked.

_No._

"Then why?" He beseeched, closing his eyes. "I miss you. I never remember to eat. Why can't you forget—is it something in this room? I'll change it. I'll fill it with chaos, I'll—"

_It won't help,_ Shima told him, vibrations shivering over his fingers. _The thing I remember—it's not that easy, Kairi._ A pause and the wood was smooth again, cold and withdrawn. Shima from a day when he wandered into this room and thought that maybe it was a bit too familiar. He'd stare off into space and not smile and Kairi would ply him with some new mortal plaything until he cheered up. Crevasses in the surface reappeared, hard against Kairi's hand. _I may never forget because… of what that keeps me from forgetting._

"Me?" An incredulous Kairi asked when Shima said nothing. He heart was sinking. "I'm… what's keeping you from returning?" Suddenly it picked up again, flying to his throat. "But—if you forget me—what happens if you see me again? Will you remember and—"

Silence, smooth, and withdrawn.

He understood Shima's silence a little better now. He couldn't make himself speak the words that Shima would go away again in the future. Shima—he was gone now, confined to the little room, hardly able to speak, all the little things that made him Shima lost to Kairi. And to a certain extent, lost to Shima. Shima had been hurt by the knowledge of what he was, by the fact that his world had only been a dream. He'd wanted to believe better things of himself.

An optimistic door! It would have been endlessly entertaining if it _wasn't Shima_. But Kairi had always known about that sickening idealism, if only from the way that Shima only enjoyed the happiest dreams.

_I don't know what will happen,_ Shima said. _Don't go, Kairi._

"I won't," Kairi promised, and then laughed, voice turning bitter. "I **can't**."

_I don't even dream anymore._

_I know,_ Shima whispered, a thousand apologies on lips that weren't there any longer. Kairi could feel the wish within him, to hold Kairi again, to speak aloud, to do something to cheer him up and make him dream. He hadn't expected that; to lose his dreams when he lost Shima. It had been almost too much to bear, but Shima was still there, in part. Kairi couldn't disappear if he knew that, so he was trapped in limbo, dead, but alive.

_All will be well, _Shima swore, although from here Kairi could feel every bit of his uncertainty. _All will be well, Kairi. _

He kept his hands upon the door, listening until his tears stopped. Shima seemed to understand then, and fell silent. The warmth and the sense of him vanished until all there was in the room with Kairi was walls and… a door. Kairi stepped away, turning his eyes aside.

He would go to the dream room now, for however long it took for him to dream. He would dream up whatever was necessary until he had what he wanted. He would send in a new companion for Shima, one who would take Kairi's place. And in time, Shima would forget. He would forget everything of Kairi, of their friendship, of all the times they had spent together. He would forget their conversations and games and dreams. He would forget the meanings behind their words and glances and all of the sorrow that his optimist incurred. He would forget until he looked at Kairi with blank eyes, and hurried back to his new companion, to lavish him with the warmth and the light that had once been so familiar. And Kairi would be alone.

He would cry again, he knew. But Shima wouldn't remember that.

He knew the face he'd dreamed before he opened his eyes, because it was a face that had never really left him. It was the face of sorrow. Kairi impressed the same sorrow upon it that it always had, but its purpose was somewhat changed.

It was only fitting. Between the two of them were the only regrets Kairi had ever had in the mortal world.

"Hello," he said, petting back the dark hair. "I'm Kairi." Jewel eyes fixed upon him, and he smiled as gently as he was able. "And you are?"

The eyes blinked at him. "Kairi?" He nodded and the head tilted. "I'm… Hiruko… right?"

Kairi nodded again. "Right."

If his heart was breaking, he didn't really notice. Or maybe he did. He was emotional and sensitive, but he'd never been honest between the two of them. His face smiled, his hands helped Hiruko to stand, and his heart screamed. _Be happy_, he begged of the two of them. _And all really will be well._

"So why are you here, Hiruko?" He asked brightly. "Is there someone you came to meet?"


End file.
